


top ten parenting tips of the last decade

by alittlebitrestless



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 02:26:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15809427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitrestless/pseuds/alittlebitrestless
Summary: Jughead watches out of the corner of his eye as Reggie pulls a stack of books out of his backpack and piles them on the diner table.Bringing Up Boys. Playful Learning, Positive Discipline. The Educated Parent. Unraveling Abusive Parenting. Idiot's Guide to Parent-Child Communication. Boundaries With Kids. How to Behave So Your Kid Will Too!Wait. What.(In other words, snapshots of Reggie accidentally finding out that his boyfriend likes non-sexual age play and, in a stunning display of maturity and growth, deciding to become the best Dad he can be for little Jughead.)





	top ten parenting tips of the last decade

**Author's Note:**

> okay, look- I started writing this for my ex, and then I broke up with him, and now I'm proud of what I wrote but also can't stand to look at it long enough to finish it the way it deserves. so here it is, in its unfinished, dubiously in-character, and more-or-less-not-how-kids-talk (I think I've yelled "that's not how kids talk!!!" at myself like 4 times just reading over it) glory. enjoy. or don't, if this isn't your thing. :)

_1._ _Know what your children can do based on their age and abilities._

Reggie's backpack lands on the table with an exaggerated thud. Jughead jumps, but focuses hard on his computer screen. They haven’t talked since last night, when Jughead- still struggling to come out of his Little headspace after Reggie came home early and walked in on him- had run off to Archie’s to hide for the night. He knew Archie would be too preoccupied to notice or ask questions, and for maybe the only time in their friendship, he was grateful for that.

He’d spent all night imagining the conversation they’re probably about to have. The one where Reggie finally realizes Jughead’s a freak. The one where Reggie tells him this was the final straw (as if there haven’t been so many already), and he can’t see past this to find any more reason to put up with Jughead. He’s ready for this. He isn’t going to argue, and he isn’t going to cry. He’s going to wait for Reggie to talk, and then he’ll agree, and then Reggie will walk away and Jughead will get his things while Reggie’s in class and then. It’ll all be over. He’s ready.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Reggie pulls a stack of books out of his backpack and piles them on the diner table. _Bringing Up Boys. Playful Learning, Positive Discipline. The Educated Parent. Unraveling Abusive Parenting. Idiot's Guide to Parent-Child Communication. Boundaries With Kids. How to Behave So Your Kid Will Too!_

Wait. What.

Jughead reads the titles again, because _what the hell_ . This isn’t ‘I think you’re disgusting,’ this is… This looks a lot like… like Reggie’s trying to learn. He doesn’t _want_ to hope, because that never works out, but he can feel it growing in his chest despite himself.

But it still means they’re going to have _some_ kind of a conversation here, and that’s fucking terrifying. There's only one way Jughead's ever dealt with fear like that.

He pulls on that sarcastic little grin that used to piss Reggie off, before Reggie learned to see through it. "Wow, Mantle," he drawls. "You figure out what a library is, finally?"

Reggie rolls his eyes. "Shut up, asshole. I'm reading all this shit for you, you could be grateful." The affectionate smile he aims at Jughead takes the sting out of the words, enough that Jughead feels himself smiling back. It’s fragile, but real, because as long as Reggie’s smiling at him, there’s a chance.

“I am,” he admits, and oops, the sarcasm got lost on the way to his mouth, so it comes out raw and honest. Reggie catches his eyes and just smiles at him for a second, quietly. Softly. It still surprises Jughead that Reggie is capable of that softness. That Reggie learned to read him, and to be quiet when Jughead needs the silence. He hadn’t… expected that. Hadn’t expected to ever get that, and it’s terrifying and amazing all at once. Except that now he’s probably going to lose it, because Reggie knows something’s going on, and it almost looks like he knows what it is.

Well, this is pretty fucking weird, no matter _how_ you explain it. And it’s too much to expect Reggie to deal with.

And then Reggie opens his mouth. “So, we gonna talk about this now, or what?” And Jughead abruptly remembers _why_ he tries not to hope for things, because there’s no fucking way this’ll work out in his favor.

Reggie must see it, because he winces and slides quickly into the booth next to Jughead. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry.” He wraps an arm around Jughead’s shoulders and pulls Jughead into him. “I’ve got questions, a lot of ‘em, but I didn’t mean to ambush you, babe. I don't exactly understand what you were doing, but it made you happy. And I like seeing you be happy, alright?”

For a moment, Jughead considers shutting this down, but honestly, he hadn’t slept last night for playing out this conversation, and he really just wants it over with. However it ends.

Still, it’s not in his nature to make it easy on himself. “Let’s just forget it, alright? I was just messing around. I got bored waiting for you to get home.” This isn’t a thing if he says it’s not a thing.

Reggie rolls his eyes. “No.”

“ _No_? Jesus, Mantle, get the fuck over it.” He shoves at Reggie, trying to make him fucking let go, because fuck chances and fuck hope, he can’t do this after all.

Which is why the next words out of Reggie’s mouth are such a surprise. “What age do you play at?”

Jughead freezes, his entire body turning to ice. No. No no no no no.

Reggie makes a triumphant noise. “I thought that might be it, yeah. It’s amazing what you can find on Google these days.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Reggie sighs. “Jug, c’mon. I’m trying to tell you I want to talk to you about this. I want to know what it is you need so I can give it to you. Will you just- can we actually _talk_ about this? Please?”

Jughead risks looking at Reggie for the first time since he sat down. Reggie is watching him with that same soft smile on his face, like he’s got all the time in the world to wait Jughead out. Fine. “Can we talk about this now?” he asks again.

Jughead abruptly sags against him. He’s done fighting this. He can either trust his boyfriend (and try to salvage whatever remains after this; he’s been surviving that way for years), or he can give up now, but as long as Reggie’s still here, he’s willing to try trusting.

“Yeah, fine, asshole. I’m not happy about it, but we’ll talk.”

“All I ask,” Reggie says, sounding really unnecessarily smug. Jughead elbows him in the side, and feels quite a bit better about all of this when Reggie yelps.

 

* * *

  

_2\. Listen to your children’s feelings and thoughts./Welcome tears._

The first time Jughead cries in front of Reggie, when he's little, it breaks Reggie's heart. Jughead is absolutely silent behind the hands covering his face, crying those big heaving sobs- real crying- that Reggie doesn't even know how you can keep quiet. (He certainly never had to learn. There was never anyone in that giant house to _hear him_.) And it tears him up that his sweet little boy ever had to learn that. When Reggie stands up to walk over to him, Jughead flinches. Reggie curses under his breath, which he knows doesn't help but he can't stop it, and falls to his knees instead, still halfway across the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says, coaxing. He hasn't had to use that voice with Jughead in a while, but it's still too damn familiar. "Hey, I just want to hold you. Can I come over and hug you?" He waits, because Jughead's body is his own no matter what age he's at, and consent is important, even if he _really_ wants Jughead to say yes.

Jughead doesn't. He shakes his head no without moving his hands, and starts awkwardly shifting toward the door. He whispers, "I'll go outside, Daddy. Didn' mean to bother you." He's still doing that awkward crab shuffle toward the door, and Reggie can't find his breath for a moment. Who taught Jughead this?

No, Reggie knows exactly who it was, and someday, when Jughead is put back together well enough, they're going to find that man and rub it in what an amazing man Jughead is, before Reggie punches him in the face and tells him never to come near Jughead again.

But Jughead needs him right now, and by the time Reggie gets his head around this newest tragedy, Jughead is almost out the door. Still not standing up. Still making as small a target of himself as he possibly can.

"Sweetheart, stop," he says, and it breaks his heart to see Jughead shiver even as he obeys. "You're not bothering me. I don't want you to leave. You're my kid, and if you're hurt, I want to fix it. Will you look at me?" Jughead shakes his head, but then lifts his head slowly. Reggie wants to just grab him and hug him, but he forces himself to ask first. "Can I hold you? I just wanna hold you. Not gonna hurt you, little dude." He gives Jughead time to think about this, holding his breath, and finally, slowly, Jughead nods.

Thank _fuck_ . Reggie moves slowly, telegraphing his moves as Jughead watches every movement carefully. Finally, _finally_ he gets close enough to wrap Jughead up in his arms and hug him until he probably can't breathe. Jughead is stiff for a moment, before he takes a deep breath, sighs it out, and relaxes into Reggie. He rests his head on Reggie's shoulder, head turned into Reggie’s neck. This close, Reggie can finally hear some evidence of his crying.

He hums soothingly, rocking Jughead back and forth to the tune of some Beatles song they'd listened to the last time his little boy had wanted a dance party, and unwraps one arm to wipe the tears off of Jughead's cheeks with his thumb. They're going to have to talk about this later, with little Jughead and big. Reggie wants to know where Jughead thought he was going, whether he really would have gone to hide, and he thinks that when Jughead's big again, he's going to need the same message- that Jughead is Reggie's priority, and that Reggie will never withhold affection from him, no matter what's going on, or how old Jughead is, or what Reggie is feeling.

But since Reggie plans on sticking around, they'll have plenty of time for him to get that into Jughead's brain. Plenty of time.

 

* * *

   
_3. Focus on what’s good about your children._

Reggie puts all of little Jughead’s art on their fridge. It makes Jughead blush every time he opens the fridge door, and it confuses the hell out of Archie. Reggie’s still not sure which of those he enjoys more, but every time Archie asks what kids they know well enough to display their art, Reggie makes up something new just to watch Archie flounder and Jughead roll his eyes. It’s pretty damn funny. Archie’s a douche, he deserves it.

Still, he makes sure to talk about Jughead’s “masterful use of color” and “attention to detail” and other things he’s picked up from parenting books and Jughead’s weird artist friends. It’s hard to find words, at first, but it makes Jughead’s face light up every time. Reggie is determined to keep complimenting his kid until Jughead stops looking so _surprised_ that his dad cares.

 

* * *

  

_4\. Have your children to do things for themselves so they feel able._

Reggie doesn’t like cooking. His attention span does not lend itself to standing still and watching water boil. He’s used to that.

But Jughead _does_ , which means that little six year old Jughead _loves_ cooking with his dad, much to Reggie’s… panic.

He doesn’t know kitchens, okay? He knows you don’t let kids touch the stove, or play with knives, or run with scissors. But that’s it. And now he’s supposed to help Jughead make them actual, edible food? Hell no.

But they’d gone to the bookstore, because Jughead wanted some pretentious book with a goldleaf cover that he could troll his Philosophy class with. When Jughead started glaring at the classic literature shelves, Reggie’d wandered off to look at comics. Jughead had turned up later carrying some freakishly expensive copy of Kafka’s _The Trial_ , _Betty Crocker’s Kids Cook,_ and something that turned out to be a storybook interspersed with recipes and cooking tips for children. He can see why Jughead chose that one- little Jughead absolutely loves being read to.

So Reggie had bought the cookbooks, on the basis that they were for _his kid_ and it was the parent’s job to provide for their child’s needs. Jughead had blushed brilliantly red, and shoved a hand over Reggie’s mouth when Reggie started to explain in the middle of the store.

And then, a few days later, he’d ordered matching aprons, embroidered with “Jughead” and “Jughead’s Dad”, because his little boy deserves to be spoiled.

 

* * *

 

_5. Control your own emotions first._

The less said about this one, the better.

Reggie knows he was an asshole all through high school. He knows he took out a hell of a lot of his teen angst on Jughead. Jughead forgave him before Reggie ever managed to forgive himself, and Reggie knows he’d still be that person if not for Jughead’s influence.

So- he’s learning. It’s a work in progress.

 

* * *

  

_6\. Take lots of time for laughter._

Jughead, surprisingly, doesn’t hate being tickled when he’s little. (When he’s big, surprise tickling gets Reggie kicked in the face. Jughead swears it was an accident, but Reggie still doesn’t quite believe him.)

Reggie's new favorite thing is to snatch him up-and yeah, course he can pick up his kid, when he knows it helps Jughead feel small and protected- and blow raspberries on his cheeks, his stomach, until Jughead's laughing so hard he cries. Reggie likes knowing his kid's happy.

(Christ, when did he get this fucking sentimental?)

 

* * *

 

_7\. Avoid power struggles./Set limits._

“I won’t do anything more than give you a time out,” Reggie says at the beginning of their first meta talk. He thinks about spanking a kid- _his_ kid, Jughead- and feels his stomach turn. There’s a wide, wide line between not caring that your kids exist, and hitting them if they fuck up, and he’s sure as hell not gonna cross it. He's gonna be better than either of their parents. Jughead’s just going to have to live with it.

Jughead looks- relieved, for the slightest second, before quirking his lips and nodding slightly. “Time outs are fine,” he says, and looks for the next item on their list.

 

* * *

 

_8\. Expect mistakes (yours and theirs) and learn from them./Do not hit, blame, or shame._

Reggie hears a shuffling at the door, and doesn’t even turn around before he mutters, “not right now, I said I’m studying.” And okay, it’s late, he’s stressed as fuck about this stupid Chem final, and he knows he was supposed to stop half an hour ago. He’d told Jughead he would, and he doesn’t want the sarcastic nagging that’s about to come his way.

Instead of that, though, there’s a shuffling noise, Jughead walking up behind him. He’s silent, which should tip Reggie off that something’s different, but he’s stressed and tired and he wants five more minutes to finish this page, so he snaps, “can’t you just _go_ _away_ for five fucking minutes,” spinning around with his arms up to wave Jughead away. But his boyfriend is too close, and Reggie’s hand clips whatever is in Jughead’s hands and sends it flying to the floor.

At the sound of the crash- a metal tray, something else? Reggie isn’t sure- Jughead is across the room and on the floor, back pressed to the wall and knees pulled up to shield his head, arms wrapped around the whole tight huddle. He’s shaking. He’s _shaking,_ and that’s the worst part, the part that catches Reggie’s eyes for too many seconds before he realizes, _fuck, I did that to him._

And then he's crossing the room, stepping over what he now sees were sandwiches and apple juice- that his _little boy_ must have made, oh shit. He drops to his knees beside Jughead.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He rests one hand on Jughead's leg, reassured when Jughead doesn't pull away. "I lost my temper, and I shouldn't have yelled at you. Can you look at me, little dude?"

Jughead shudders and shakes his head, but he mumbles something into his legs. Reggie sweeps his thumb down Jughead's calf, up and down, up and down, and tries to hear. It sounds like-

"'m sorry, Daddy," Jughead says, raising his head just enough that Reggie can see his wide, red eyes. Fuck, his baby looks _terrified_. Of him. Of his anger. Younger than usual, too. "Sorry, should’a waited like you told me to. You c'n go back to doing important things an' I'll be quiet. ‘M sorry..."

He moves to get up, slowly, watching Reggie like a wild animal he’s trying not to provoke. So Reggie waits until he’s close enough, then grabs him around the waist and drags him into his lap. He knows sudden movements definitely aren’t a great choice for a scared kid, but shit, he just wants his little boy close to him, so he can start trying to _fix_ what he did.

Jughead makes a startled noise, but curls into Reggie once Reggie has him in his lap. Reggie kisses the top of Jughead’s head, because it’s there and he can. "Hang on, buddy." He keeps his voice low, gentle. "Listen to me. Are you listening?" Reggie pauses in case Jughead wants to speak, but Jughead just ducks his head into Reggie’s neck, so Reggie goes on.

"This wasn't your fault. I told you I'd be done already, and you waited so patiently, even longer than I should have made you wait. And then you brought me a snack, and I lost my temper and ruined it. I scared you. _I_ should be apologizing to you, little one. I'm sorry for yelling at you, and scaring you, and for ruining the food you made. I can tell you worked hard on it."

It's true- now that Reggie looks, he can see sandwiches without crusts, his favorite mug dripping apple juice onto the carpet. "I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

Jughead shifts against him, and Reggie lets go just enough to let him move. Jughead looks up at him with wide eyes, shaking his head. He wipes his nose with the back of one hand, like Reggie’s not going to know he was crying.

Reggie hugs him again, tight enough that jughead probably can't breathe, but _god_. His poor little boy is still so unsure of himself. "Shhh, sweetheart. I promise it's not your fault, Dad got mad and he's sorry. Can I make it up to you? How about we go in the kitchen and we can make another snack together, buddy? Would that be okay?”

Jughead studies him for a minute more, then asks, timidly, so quiet Reggie has to strain to hear even this close, "Can... we sit here another minute, Dad?" Like he still expects to be told no, and Reggie knows enough about Jughead's family to know that he _does_. He does expect to be told no, to be dumped to the side whenever something better or just new and fun comes along. So he swallows against the lump forming in his throat, and nods his head.

"Of course we can, buddy. I’ve got you, you're okay. We'll sit right here until you feel better." He shifts them so he's leaning against the wall, Jughead still held tight in his arms and curled up smaller than anyone that lanky and tall should ever know how to manage. He lets Jughead hide his head and cry into Reggie's sweater for a while, rubs his back and whispers soothingly, little things like _you're safe_ and _I'm sorry_ and _nothing is more important to me than you_. He's happy to sit right here until Jughead's okay, however long that takes.


End file.
